


Questhook

by clarityhiding



Series: Tales from the House of Mau [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: (I swear there's fantasy going on Jason just doesn't realize it yet.), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - Retail, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 06:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17699171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarityhiding/pseuds/clarityhiding
Summary: Grace expresses her concern over the size of the studio apartment while the new neighbor is so pretty Jason's knees keep threatening to give out around him, even though the guy is, frankly, horrible at being a capable adult. Jason's friends aren't any help, of course—they're either overflowing with bad advice or chortling over some secret joke they refuse to share with him.Or: The one where Jason is just minding his business (specifically, a comic/game/hobby shop) and GMing for a bunch of losers who like to play at being fictional space cops when someone new moves into his building.





	Questhook

**Author's Note:**

> Finally getting this onto AO3 >.> No fantasy in this part, but it will show up later in the series.

Mau is lying across the entryway again because there's a sunbeam that shines there every day at this time and she believes that all sunbeams are hers to lie in, no matter their location. She's right, of course. At least, Grace said to let her do her own thing when Jason first met her because, "She's been an ornery princess for over three thousand years, she's not about to change now." Sometimes, the woman has a gift for hyperbole.

Still, that doesn't stop him from telling the cat, "One of these days someone is going to step on you and I'm going to laugh." The look Mau gives him in response says he doesn't know anything about anything. To be fair, he probably doesn't; he's been filling in occasionally at Battle Acts for three years now and has yet to see anyone come close to stepping on the cat.

Today is no exception. The door opens and, as always, the new arrival easily steps around the cat. Even goes so far as to stop and lean over, carefully petting the thick, beautifully patterned coat. "Oh my, yes, I see," the guy says. "You have done a very good job taking care of it. It's good to keep yourself occupied."

Jason sighs and ducks under the counter for the first aid kit Grace keeps there. Customers are constantly trying to make friends with Mau, and it works, but only ever for a little while. Then some switch in the cat seems to flip and heaven help the person who happens to be touching her at that moment, because their arm will end up shredded more often than not. He still isn't sure why Grace hasn't had Animal Control after her about it yet.

"Hey," he calls over when it looks like the guy intends to go in for another pet. "I wouldn't, if I were you. Mau will turn on a person without a moment's notice."

"She's a fierce protector," the man says, which is a very polite way to refer to Mau's psychotic tendencies.

"She's a menace and a safety hazard," Jason says, raising his voice to speak over Mau's meows of protest. "You are," he adds, pointing a finger at the cat. "Don't even try to pretend."

The man laughs and tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear. "I'm looking for the owner?" he says as he straightens, turning to face Jason full-on for the first time.

Shit. This guy is… _Wow_. Jason swallows and focuses on the man's shaggy black hair before he can do anything really stupid such as stare like a creeper in the face of what's got to be the prettiest man he's ever seen. "Grace ran out to grab lunch. She should be back in ten."

"I don't mind waiting," the man says, taking one of the seats next to the door. "Are you one of the instructors?"

"Oh, no. I have the shop next door," Jason explains. "Grace just has me mind the counter when she wants to pop out sometimes. Since she's the landlord and she's giving me a great deal on my rent, I don't mind."

The look the guy gives him is a very skeptical one. "You're the owner of Adventure Thyme?" he asks, naming the tea and herbal remedy place that's the third shop in Grace's building.

"What? No! The store on the other side, the book and hobby shop. Knight & Page." He knows it's an awful name, but he inherited it along with the shop's contents and the long-time customers would gut him if he tried to change it—possibly quite literally, since a number of them are also Grace's students. Fucking LARPers.

"Gotta say, you don't look the sort to run something like that either." Blue eyes drop down to rest on where Jason's biceps are straining the sleeves of his shirt.

Jason flushes slightly, trying not to feel self-conscious. He's a big guy who likes to stay fit, there's no shame in that. "Sometimes appearances can misleading," he says defensively.

It just earns him another laugh. "Trust me, I know."

Grace returns before Jason has a chance to unpack _that_ statement, her long red ponytail just barely missing getting caught in the door, like always. "Everything quiet?"

"You have a visitor."

The guy stands up, holding out his hand. "Miss Grace? I'm Tim, Tim Drake. Cassie Sandsmark's a friend of mine—she said you might have a place I could rent?"

Grace eyes him up and down, but takes his hand and clasps it firmly in hers. "Drake, huh? I have a studio available, but it's only about 120 square feet. It won't fit very much."

"That won't be a problem," Tim reassures her, flashing a winning smile that makes Jason's knees go a little wobbly, even though it's not aimed at him. "I don't take up a lot of space."

"If you say so. If Jason doesn't mind staying here a little longer, I can show it to you now, if you like." 

"Go on," Jason says weakly. "I can spare another five minutes."

"Thanks," Tim says. "I appreciate it." This time, the smile turns in his direction and Jason has to lock his jaw to keep from saying something stupid.

"No problem," he says through clenched teeth. "Always happy to help."

 _Fuck_. He's so screwed.

 

* * *

 

In addition to the shop, Jason also rents a studio on the third floor of Grace's building, an inky-dinky single bedroom with a three-quarter bath sectioned off from the larger apartment that takes up most of the floor. He's got a mini fridge, a hot plate, and a microwave and it more than meets his needs. All in all, it's a pretty sweet deal. Or, at least, it was.

Now, he can't seem to step out of his apartment without running into Tim in the mornings and it's starting to get to him in a very annoying way.

"You should just ask him out," Kyle advises when this has been going on for nearly three weeks. "The worst that can happen is he says no."

"I'm not taking dating advice from a grown-ass man who spends every Tuesday evening pretending to be a fictional space cop," Jason tells him, glaring down the table that fills most of the smaller of Knight & Page's two back rooms. He has no idea how he ended up GM for this and another gaming group, but the players are loyal customers and he makes them pay to rent the room, so it's not as bad as it could be.

"Says the man who makes up adventures for fictional space cops," Hal drawls.

"Because John washed his hands of you idiots when you destroyed his carefully crafted ten-month-long campaign in less than fifteen minutes," Jason reminds them.

"How were we supposed to know we weren't supposed to kill that guy? Who names their questhook 'Sinestro' when they _don't_ want you think he's a bad guy from the start?" Guy grumbles.

Jason sighs. "You know," he says to Jessica, the lone female in the room, "I'm sure Babs and the others wouldn't mind a new player if want to join the Thursday-night group. It's not space cops, but you'd still get to solve mysteries and junk."

"That's okay," she says, pulling into her sweater but still smiling slightly. "If I left, they'd probably need to roll new characters every week."

"Well," Simon says. "I can't really say you're wrong."

 

* * *

 

The bell above the door jingles and Jason has to do a double-take when Mau walks in. "I know you didn't open that," he tells her. "You aren't tall enough to reach the handle."

"Interesting that you use that as your argument and not the fact that she hasn't got opposable thumbs," is Tim's comment as he follows the cat inside.

"Have you seen her paws? She's polydactyl, practically has two paws on each of her forelegs. The way she uses those extra toes, she basically does have opposable thumbs," Jason says, busying himself with straightening the items in the counter's display case and determinedly _not looking_ at Tim.

"Huh. Well, I hope it's not a problem I let her in. She was waiting at the door when I got there, so I figured…" Tim shrugs.

"According to Grace, Mau owns the building and Grace is just on the paperwork for legal reasons. If anyone has free rein of the property, it's her highness here." When he glances up, Tim is standing right in front of the counter, staring down at him. Jason gulps and nearly knocks over a figurine. "Don't feel you have to stick around to let Mau out again. I'm fairly certain she can walk through walls when she feels like it."

"Actually, I'm here as a potential customer. I lost some of my dice in the move to Gotham and I need replacements?" He smiles and Jason bangs his head on the underside of the counter in his hurry to stand up.

Rubbing his sore scalp, Jason fights down a grimace. "Don't tell me you're one of these role-playing types also?"

Tim laughs. "Guilty as charged, sorry."

It would figure that Jason finally meets a nice guy and he's secretly pretending to be an elven warrior or some shit in his free time. Sighing, he gestures to the counter on his right. "The nicer dice and miniatures are over there, if you want to browse. There are cheaper options on that wall," he indicates the corner of the store that's devoted entirely to various game paraphernalia, though Tim is already circling the counter to eye the dice displayed under glass with a critical eye.

"You have a nice selection," Tim says when Jason comes over. "The enameled ones look particularly well-crafted, though the opalite dice are very…" He trails off, a gleam in his eye.

Oh boy, one of those. Well, Jason can't really fault him—the stone dice _are_ nice, though it's rare that anyone realizes what they are. "Are you a geologist or something? Most people assume they must be made out of some fancy plastic."

"I'm an engineer, actually. But rocks and gemstones are something of a hobby. I'll take the opalite."

"Sure, which one do you want?" Jason asks, pulling out the tray.

"Oh, all of them, of course. I couldn't break up such a beautiful set," Tim insists.

Jason raises an eyebrow but keeps his mouth shut as he carefully repackages the dice in the fancy box they originally came in. It's Tim's money, after all; if he wants to blow a big chunk of it on pretty rocks, far be it from Jason to say anything. As he rings up the sale, Tim glances around the store. "Something else you're looking for?" Jason asks.

"No. Well, yes, but not anything to buy. Miss Grace said you run games some nights? I used to play Wizards & Warriors with my friends in college, but they're all back on the west coast and I was hoping to join a new group."

"I run a couple of home-brew games, but I'm not really in charge of those. The groups rent out the back room, I'm just GM to keep down the property damage. You're welcome to try joining one of the groups, but ultimately the other players are the ones who have final say on whether anyone new can play."

"What kind of home-brew? I really liked the way my old group did things."

"Same basic game mechanics for initiative and all that, but one's a sort of noire murder mystery and the other is, uh. Space cops in space. Aliens and shit, I guess." Jason grimaces. He knows he's not the best at describing these things, but then he's not the one who came up with the initial game proposals, that was all the players.

Tim rocks back on his heels, humming thoughtfully. "I really like the high fantasy setting of W&W."

"Yeah, nothing like that at the moment, sorry. Well. Unless you want to join the peewee game, and I don't really…" Jason coughs. "It's a couple of preteen besties who want to play hero. Lots of rescuing villages from evil overlords, slaying dragons, that sort of thing. They only play twice a month since one of the players lives over in Metropolis."

That proposal earns him a violent shudder and Tim actively taking a step back from the counter. "No, I don't think so. I… have to get going. Unpacking left to do, you know," he says, grabbing his purchase and hurrying out the door.

Mau hops up on the counter and gives Jason a pointed look. "What? I already sacrifice enough of my free time to this stupid place. I'm not gonna start a new game just for him." Though maybe it would be worth it, just to have an excuse to stare at Tim for several hours each week.

 

* * *

 

The Thursday-night ladies (and Hank) are of much the same mind as Kyle, only they're also nosy as all get out. "You should ask him out," Dinah says, kicking up her legs and once again ignoring Jason's rule of no feet on the table. "Do you know what he does?"

"He's a software and robotics engineer at WayneTech," Jason says as he arranges his gear to his liking and sets up a screen so certain individuals can't sneak a peek at what he has planned for them. He's actually only running the current campaign so their usual GM can take a break and experience things from the player side for a bit. Unfortunately, Barbara's taking a while adjusting to not being all-knowing when it comes to the game world.

"And how'd you learn that?" Helena wants to know. "Please don't tell me you dug through his trash, because that is totally creepy."

"You like it just fine when your guy does it to you," Renee reminds her.

"That's different! Vic does it to show he cares about me. Sometimes I leave him messages on the back old receipts. He likes that," Helena says, blushing slightly as she sweeps back her long dark hair.

Jason snorts and shakes his head. "Yeah, and you expect me to take relationship advice from you lot? I don't think so."

"He's a good kid," Barbara says, and she would know, she does occasional freelance work for WayneTech. "You could do a lot worse than Tim Drake."

"You've got your eye on a _Drake_?" Dinah asks, sounding positively gleeful. "Okay, you _have_ to ask him out, because starting now I'm taking bets on when you figure it out."

He narrows his eyes at her. "Figure what out?"

"Oh, honey, come on. It would be cheating if I told you."

 

* * *

 

He doesn't see Tim around for a week, which is strange because they generally run into each other on the stairs at least once a day, Jason on his way up after closing the shop, Tim sleepily trudging up after working late designing tiny computers or whatever it is he does. At first he doesn't think anything about, but after a bout of very loud coughing interrupts his train of thought on his way up Wednesday evening, he comes back an hour later with a container of freshly made chicken soup and a thermos of the peppermint-elderflower tea that the ladies at Adventure Thyme swear by.

A knock at the door prompts another round of coughing, then absolute silence. He knocks again. "Tim? It's Jason from upstairs; I know you're in there. I brought you some soup and tea, if you want to open up."

This earns a series of unfortunate-sounding thumps and crashes, before the door finally creeks open to show Tim, completely bundled up in a blanket to the point that only his face is visible. "Soup?"

"And tea." Jason rases the thermos. "Something Pam mixed up for me special when I had a bad cold last spring."

"Tea?" Tim grimaces and eyes the thermos with bleary-eyed suspicion. "It doesn't have shrimp, does it? I can't eat shrimp."

"No, I didn't put shrimp in the herb tea or the chicken noodle soup," Jason says, not even trying to hide it when he rolls his eyes. Glancing over Tim's shoulder into the apartment, he frowns. "You alright in there? Looks like a tornado hit. Can't even see your bed."

"Bed…? Oh, yeah, I think I have a futon somewhere," Tim says vaguely before erupting in a flurry of sneezes.

"You _think_ —? What have you been sleeping on?" Jason demands, pushing his way inside.

"Oh, you know," Tim says with a shrug, like that explains anything.

"You moved in _months_ ago. How are you still living out of boxes?"

"I don't need much space," Tim grumbles.

Sighing, Jason sets the thermos on the floor out of the way (since somehow there's not even a _table_ ) and shoves the container of soup at Tim. "You, sit over there," he says, pointing to the squashy bean bag chair that's the only visible piece of furniture even _close_ to resembling a bed. "Eat your soup. I'll see if I can't put all this away."

"You don't have to," Tim protests, though he's already grabbing a spoon from an open box and picking his way across the room.

 

* * *

 

It's a good thing Jason didn't have any evening plans, since unpacking takes nearly three hours, even with Tim stopping him from touching various boxes on the grounds that they contain "items of a highly personal nature"—this said with bright pink cheeks. Taking into consideration Tim's admitted interest in nerdy high fantasy, that probably means an extensive collection of dragon dildos, which, hey, Jason's not going to judge.

Still, he managed to do an alright job of it, getting clothes into the closet, cutlery and cookware into the kitchenette area, books onto shelves, and nearly all the boxes collapsed and stashed away in the crawlspace under the eaves. There's now enough space to move around without Jason feeling feeling vaguely claustrophobic and like a someone's going to come knocking at the door at any moment for half a dozen fire code violations.

It took some doing, but he even unearthed the rumored futon and made up the bed, only to later discover a box containing the frame, still in pieces and clearly never opened, though no doubt bought at the same time as the mattress. Since Jason had already tucked Tim away by that point, he chose to leave the box in the corner, a project for a later date, when Tim isn't so under the weather.

Tim stirs and glances sleepily in his direction while Jason's in the midst of sneaking out. "Hey," he says groggily. "Y'r leaving?"

"Some of us have to get up early to accept shipments tomorrow morning," Jason explains, feeling inexplicably guilty that he's dodging out now. It makes no sense, it's not like the two of them are really friends, just neighbors. Tim has actual room to move now, he'll be fine. He definitely doesn't need Jason sticking around, making sure he stays in bed and behaves like a proper adult. "I really only meant to drop off the soup and tea, not organize your whole life."

"When 'm better, we should… get together. Thank you for this. Lemme fix you…" Tim pauses to first yawn hugely, then cough several times. "Dinner?" 

He doesn't mean to—the poor guy looks miserable, this cold really has him beat and he doesn't need anyone passing judgement on him now—but Jason grimaces automatically. "Tim. Buddy. You don't even have a _table_ , let alone cookware that's ever been used. I think dinner's a bit beyond you even when you aren't actively hacking up a lung."

"Oh." Tim visibly deflates, tugging the covers up over his nose as his fever-flush goes redder and creeps even higher up his cheeks. As a testament to just how tired Jason is, for one brief moment he could swear a tendril of smoke rises as well, Tim is blushing so hard.

God, the guy is a serious walking disaster, and all Jason wants to do is pull him close and apologize. This is horrible, the Thursday night ladies can never know. "Hey, it's cool. There are plenty of good places to eat around here if you know where to look. I'll introduce you to some of my favorites."

"I'd like that," Tim says, the words slightly muffled by the blankets he has yet to remove from his face.

"It's a date," Jason agrees, and then quickly exits, shutting the door behind him in a rush before he can question himself as to why the hell he phrased it like _that_.

**Author's Note:**

> [I have a tumblr!](http://themandylion.tumblr.com/) Come visit if you want ridiculous AU headcanons, rants about the English language (and/or publishing), plague fangirling, adorable baby bats, and veeeeery occasional fanart.


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